Never Unafraid
by LondonBelow
Summary: Collins and Angel talk about life, friends, and general nonsense. CollinsAngel oneshot.


_Note: People keep asking if I write Collins/Angel. Generally I don't, but I wrote this one for speedrent (missed deadline) about a week ago and thought, well, y'all keep asking so I'll post it here. Hope you enjoy!_

Disclaimer: RENT is Jonathan Larson's and the "smelling salts on the radiator" thing is a _Good Will Hunting_ reference

One thing Tom Collins had always found about smelling salts and radiators-- they made his dreams come true. Since he was a teenager, whenever he wanted to hallucinate, Collins used salts and heat. He used other things-- marijuana, mostly-- to relax himself, take the edge off, make his friend Roger a little less mopey and a little more fun. When he needed to bring his dreams to life, though, Collins knew nothing beat heat and salts.

Collins had spoken to Neitzche. He had spoken to Shakespeare. On one spectacular occasion, he and Voltaire had enjoyed a lengthy discourse in archaic French, never mind that Collins knew not a word of French.

Tonight, he did not want a dead genius. Tonight he wanted an extinguished miracle.

And there she was, standing before him in a spectacular outfit: semi-pleated blue skirt falling to her knees, white tights, and a puffing black-and-red hunter's jacket. Collins' jaw dropped. He sat on the floor with the soles of his feet pressed together, gaping.

She giggled. "Come on," she said. "Come sit with me." She offered a hand to help him up and led the dazed man to the couch. "You want a smoke?" she asked, procuring a joint from somewhere on her person.

"Baby, you never liked these."

"I know." She held it out and lit it for him. "But you did."

Collins told Angel the details of her funeral. When he reached the fight in the graveyard, Angel interrupted, "They called me _what_?"

"Unafraid to say, 'I love you,'" Collins parroted.

Angel laughed. She shook her head. "My Mimi. Trust her to say such a silly thing."

Collins took the joint from his mouth and sat up. He gave Angel a serious look. "Why's that so silly?" he asked.

"Because of course I was scared, honey. Anyone's scared. No, not of you," she added hastily, seeing his stricken look. "But being so vulnerable, well, half the thrill's in the prospect and half in the fear, isn't it? Unafraid," she echoed, shaking her head. "I'd rather be brave than unafraid and boring," she said.

Collins laughed. Something about the street-rat drummer's ability to run circles around him with her simple wisdom always astounded Collins. It was only one of the many things he loved about her. "You were never boring, baby."

"But I was scared," she informed him with a serene smile.

"You know I'll always love you."

Angel sighed. He didn't understand. "I know. That's why I loved you so much. But still, I was scared all the time. So when are you going to start dating again?"

Collins thought that lecturing hundreds of college students each week, half of them teenagers, had prepared him for anything. He had barely blinked the previous week when a sun-burned Jewish girl protested his use of the word 'ogre', claiming the invention of a species of a pure malice was a sheer and unacceptable arrogance on the part of humanity. And at least once every few semesters, a sweaty, bug-eyed boy would ask how he knew for sure that he was gay.

Clearly, Collins thought, he was ready for anything. Collins was wrong.

"Uh… I really didn't, uh…"

"Well don't turn into a Roger on my account, I'd never forgive myself."

"Turn into a… what did you just call me?" Collins asked, laughing, but maybe that was the drug taking hold.

"Roger. Moping. Sulking." She raised an eyebrow. "Your friend Benny was a looker." They both had a hearty laugh at that. "Well just you take care, okay? No day but today, right?"

Collins had thrown himself into the credo full willingly. He just wasn't ready for it to apply here. "No day but today," he echoed sulkily.

"I hate seeing you mope. Find a nice boy!" Angel pecked him on the cheek so quickly, Collins touched the hot skin and wondered if the kiss had truly existed.

"Um, Professor, we-- oh, my G-d. Is he okay?"

Collins did not hear the footsteps approach or feel the touch on his wrist. He did not hear the giggling, "I think he's stoned! Come on, better he doesn't know we were here." and the nervous laughter as his students left the office.

THE END!

Reviews would be awesome! Please?


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